Wednesday, March 9, 2016

The
first sexy contemporary romance in Sara Jane Stone’s brand new Second Shot
series!

Five
years ago, Josie Fairmore left timber country in search of a bright future. Now
she’s back home with a mountain of debt and reeling from a loss that haunts
her. Desperate for a job, she turns to the one man she wishes she could avoid.
The man who rocked her world one wild night and then walked right out of it.

Former
Marine Noah Tager is managing his dad’s bar and holding tight to the feeling
that his time overseas led to failure. The members of his small town think he’s
a war hero, but after everything he’s witnessed, Noah doesn’t want a pat on the
back. The only thing he desires is a second chance with his best friend’s
little sister.

Josie’s
determined to hold onto her heart and not repeat her mistakes, but when danger
arrives on Noah’s doorstep and takes aim at Josie, they just might discover
that sometimes love is worth the risk.

Chapter
18

Josie understood grief. She could
navigate the fog that descended when the bad news bears arrived and delivered
their doom and gloom message.

Your
brother has been injured.

Your
brother needs surgery.

She had heard those words and the
haze had swallowed her. There was no way out. She knew that. The bears stood
guard, keeping her locked in fear and anguish.

Until Noah kissed her.

One kiss from a man who was fighting
the same fears didn’t change a thing. But oh God, it felt so good. The touch of
his lips, the feel of his hands pulling at her shirt as if he needed to touch
the skin beneath . . .

Her body responded, demanding more,
needing to feel more. She ran her hands over the smooth skin of his broad back,
down to his waist and around to his chiseled abs. Her tongue touched his as she
traced her fingers over his six-pack. So
much strength.

Gliding her hands upward, she
pressed her palms flat against his chest, dimly aware of his fingers toying
with the button on her pants. He tugged at her zipper, but didn’t bothering
pushing her pants down over her hips. He simply slipped his hands inside and
drew her to him, keeping a firm hold on her ass.

Groaning, she broke away from his
kiss and tipped her head back. His mouth trailed kisses over her jaw, down her
throat, as if he needed to taste every inch of her.

More.
I need more.

She wanted to keep the
fog of grief locked outside his bedroom. She didn’t want to think. She just
wanted to feel. She needed him right now because she couldn’t step into that
place where the world felt like it was falling apart, spiraling out of control.
Not yet.

“It’s not fair,” she murmured, her
eyes open and staring at the ceiling.

His lips hovered over her the swell
of her breasts peaking out over the top of her shirt. “Not much is.”

Oh
no, don’t go there.

“You’re naked and I’m not,” she
said, drawing him back to this place where physical desire dominated.

He let out a low laugh as his tongue
glided over her skin, licking just about the edge of her t-shirt. “Not fair at
all.”

She
broke away from him and stripped off her clothes. Her movements were rushed and
she nearly fell over trying to get out of her pants. But she wasn’t looking to
seduce him. She wanted to take him, fighting her way to a mutual pleasure that
would block out everything else.

His brow knitted together as he
watched her. “Are you sure—”

“Shhh.” She placed her index finger
over her lips. “I need you, Noah. I’m not calling, sending a letter, or a
pigeon. I’m right here and I need—”

His lips captured hers, his hands on
her hips, drawing her close and then guiding her back. Her legs touched the bed
and she lowered down, sitting on the edge. She took him with her.

I
won’t let go.

Noah
dropped to one knee, his hands moving to her breasts. She leaned back and he
followed, moving over her.

Wrapping her legs around his hips,
she held him close. He didn’t pull away, or try to second-guess her. He just
slid inside.

“More,”
she whispered.

He
stared down at her, his cheeks still damp from his tears. But he wasn’t crying
now, he was looking at her as if she was everything he needed. And he was
pumping into her hard and fast. There was nothing gentle or careful about his
movements. It was as if he needed to take as much as he could, as if he was
depending on her . . .

I can’t be strong enough
for both of us.

She closed her eyes and let her
hands roam. He had to meet her halfway, rescue her just a little . . .

His hips slammed into her. His right
elbow pressed into the bed beside her shoulder and his upper body hovered over
her. But his other hand wandered, gliding over her torso, reaching between
them. His thumb brushed over the spot guaranteed to send her spiraling into
pleasure. But then he stopped.

She opened her eyes and looked up at
him. I promise I won’t turn into a idiot,
calling out professions of love.

“Ready?” he demanded.
“Because I can’t hold back.”

“Yes,” she gasped.

He thrust into her again, his thumb
offering one more teasing touch as plain old missionary pushed her over the
edge. She took the sweet relief, holding tight to the pleasure. She did not
love this man. She refused to hand over her heart.

But she loved everything about this
orgasm.

“Noah, oh Noah.” She chanted his
name as if it would prolong the escape.

But one more thrust and he groaned,
his face contorting as he came. His lips curled back and he looked as if was
growling, a pure animalistic reaction to taking her, claiming her, and oh God—

“We didn’t . . .,” she said, her
hand pushing at her chest, trying to get him off her. It was too late. She knew
it was too late. “Oh, God, Noah.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, obeying her
frantic scrambling to get him off her. He withdrew from her body and collapsed
on his back, his legs dangling over the edge of the bed. They’d been in such a
rush to feel something other than pain, to push away the tears, that they
fallen sideways across the full-size bed. And they’d forgotten the most
important thing.

“We didn’t use a condom,” she said.

He rolled onto his side and propped
his head against his hand, his elbow pressing into the rumpled bedding. “Shit,
I’m sorry,” he said his voice hoarse. Concern shown in his blue eyes. “I wasn’t
thinking straight, sweetheart. I can promise you I’m clean. I wasn’t a saint
these past five years, but I didn’t screw around like some of the other guys.”

She shook her head, not wanting to
picture him screwing anyone else. Not right now while she was lying naked
beside him, after he’d come inside her.

“I stopped taking the pill,” she
said, her voice hollow. How could she let this happen? “I figured I wasn’t
great at remembering it anyway seeing as I got pregnant. I meant to get an IUD.
But I looked up the cost . . .”

“It’s going to be okay.” Noah drew
her into his arms and she went, resting her head against his chest. He felt so
strong, the muscles in his arms taut as they laid on the bed. “The changes are
slim—”

“I can’t loose another baby,” she
whispered.

“You won’t.” His hold tightened as
if he could physical force the possibility away. “You could always take a
morning after pill before you leave for Germany.”

“I could.” But despite the bubbling
fear, she couldn’t bring herself to go to a doctor and ask to wipe away the
possibility of a child. She couldn’t loose another baby, not to a pill or an
early delivery.

Of course, she wasn’t in a position
to have child. But still, after fighting so hard for her baby to live, she
couldn’t erase another before he even had a chance . . .

“But,” she began.

“You don’t have to take anything,
Josie. Whatever happens, we’ll get through it. And you don’t need to send a
pigeon this time. I’m not going anywhere. And I’ll be here when you get back
from Germany.”

She nodded, the fear she’d pushed
away for a few blissful—and potentially disastrous—minutes, returned. Her
brother might be dying. She might never get to hear him laugh, or give her shit
for well, just about anything. And she might never get to see his expression
when she told him she’d gotten naked with his best friend.

“It’s going to be okay, Josie,” he
said as if he could make everything—Dominic, her potential pregnancy—A-Okay
through sheer willpower.

“Maybe.”

She closed her eyes. You can do this. You can face anything.

She
might be lying to herself. But she didn’t have a choice. She needed to be
strong because Noah couldn’t rush in a play the hero this time. She’d found him
reduced to tears, his emotions raw when she entered his room. He was in this
with her.

With
her head still resting against his chest, she wrapped her arm around him and
held tight.

I’ll be your anchor if
you’ll be mine because if we send out a pigeon, I don’t think anyone will rush
to our rescue.

After several years on the other side
of the publishing industry, Sara Jane Stone bid goodbye to her sales career to
pursue her dream-writing romance novels. Sara Jane currently resides in
Brooklyn, New York with her very supportive real-life hero, two lively young
children and a lazy Burmese cat. Join Sara Jane’s newsletter to receive new
release information, news about contests, giveaways, and more! Visit
www.sarajanestone.com and look for her newsletter entry form.